


Hisoka's Travels

by jumpingjackflash505



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27432274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumpingjackflash505/pseuds/jumpingjackflash505
Summary: Hisoka centered stories.
Relationships: Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	1. Show's Starting

**Author's Note:**

> Hisoka is so mysterious and interesting so welcome to Projection the Fic

Hisoka stood in a puddle of blood, scrutinized by a range of expressions: horrified, angered, impressed. The Phantom Troupe had little idea of what to do with their newest applicant. Number 13's body lay tattered on the warehouse floor, bone peeking through in clean cuts, an additional display of dexterity Hisoka felt would bolster his impression. 

He ran a tongue across his bleeding smile, casually as though he were picking his teeth after a long meal. 

"Ah, this got a bit messy. Stage fright, I suppose." Hisoka said, insulting the solemn silence of the room. Of course. He had killed their comrade. The Phantom Troupe were known to be quite close. A man with a sheathed katana gritted his teeth, reached for the hilt of it and ignored the protestations of the others. Hisoka felt a surge of excitement as strong as before he had fought and killed Number 13.

Five minutes prior. 

Hisoka hummed, unmoving. The blood beneath him began to flow and spread, trapping his reflection in a crimson void. "I'm willing to fight another member, although that was not in the job description." He reached for his playing cards. The samurai's sword glinted halfway out of its scabbard.

"No, that will not be necessary," A voice declared. The sound froze the Samurai, dissipating the swiftness of his attack in an instant. He wrapped and unwrapped his hand over his sword, coiled in fury and ready to spring. 

"Nobunaga." The same man called out. This time, the samurai's posture eased almost immediately. Quiet sighs punctured the tense air from multiple corners of the darkness. Hisoka eased his stance as well, a bit let down by the anticlimax, but more than pleased by the turn out. He felt the aura of a dozen of the strongest Nen users he had ever had the pleasure of encountering. Without a doubt, if a person unfamiliar with the basics of Ten stumbled into the hideout, the passive energy alone would fry their brains like noxious gas

Exhilaration tingled at the tips of Hisoka's fingers, itching already for his main course, the strongest aura of all. 

"You are very interesting, Hisoka Morrow." Chrollo assented, eyes shrouded in a misty black. Not a pinprick of light graced them. Hisoka grinned, bowed deeply as he had learned to do for shows many, many years before. Although, instead of hordes of cheers and showerings of flowers there were grim stares and the steady trickle of leaking pipes like an echoed sob. Hisoka thought gleefully of how far he had come. 

"Tell me something I don't know, _Boss_ "

-

"He's too dangerous," Machi was quick to point out. The Troupe had to agree.

"I don't trust him at all," Uvo said, "But Machi, you've known him the longest while Nen Healing in the Arena." 

All heads pivoted towards Machi. She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms defensively. "I didn't tell him about the Troupe, if that's what you're wondering. God knows he's been keeping tabs on us for years." 

_Bingo_ Hisoka noted, lounging in a support beam way above the ceiling, concealing his presence. Chrollo was notably not a part of this discussion, which bothered Hisoka. His favor was the one whose Hisoka thought mattered the most, and the one that he had been vying for. Apparently, democracy was crucial even among the paragon of anarchy. The irony nearly made him topple out the ceiling in a laughing mess, falling right into the hands of very irritated assassins. 

"Why don't we. Just kill him. And say he was. Uncooperative." A man with a muffled mouth stated. A blonde shook his head. 

"Did you see what he did to poor Lawrence? We couldn't get close to him if we tried. That aura is something else. What is he, a transmuter?" 

Machi nodded, "Yeah. Shifts his aura to something sticky, Calls it Bungee Gum." 

A girl with black spiked hair and a blonde woman repeated, "Bungee Gum?"

"Ugh. He used to love this special type of gum as a kid called that. Or something." Machi rolled her eyes as though the knowledge was so useless it pained to relate. Hisoka amusedly noted that she had remembered. 

"Anything else you know about him?" Uvo pressed.

Machi shook her head. "Nope. Nothing. The only thing about his past he talks about is that damn gum. Besides that and his affinity for brutal murder, he's beyond me. He could be a Meteor City case, but I don't think that's it. I think he abandoned everyone himself." 

"Then. What does. He want with. The Troupe?"

A silence spread between the members. Nobunaga suddenly burst into the room, strided past the group, still seething. He stopped and turned his head. 

"That guy's a fucking nutjob. If Chrollo lets him join..." He exhaled, frustration and defeat tacked on, "I don't trust a guy who shows up one day and just asks to kill a member to join our group. I don't trust someone who can't give a solid motive for choosing the Troupe. And I. Fucking. Hate. Clowns." 

The swordsman filed out loudly, each step shaking the weak foundation of their temporary base. Hisoka felt the ceiling rock just slightly, and took it as his cue to leave. 

The head Spider was, unsurprisingly, engrossed in a dusty volume. The same one he had been for what was probably years by the looks of the worn cover. Faded red velvet. 

Hisoka approached. "I believe I require an evaluation." 

Chrollo's eyes wandered across the pages for an extra minute. Hisoka felt impatience claw onto his tongue. He tried to bite it back, something he was unaccustomed to doing. Eventually, Chrollo closed his book. 

"Yes, I believe you do. Like I said, I was quite impressed by your display. Your Nen talents are exceedingly rare. Not many people would think to base their Nen off something like gum." Chrollo's passive gaze shifted, glistened over as he spoke of Hisoka's powers. He clutched his book a bit tighter. Hisoka had anticipated this. If he couldn't sell his value as a Spider, then his Nen would most likely be stolen. It would be a pain to fight for it back, but Hisoka wasn't planning on entertaining that. 

"I'm sure these talents would be well suited at your disposal. I am fully prepared to take on the responsibilities of the thirteenth troupe member. Should be quite fun," Hisoka sneered. Chrollo smiled, as cryptic and disingenuous as himself. 

"Fun. Yes, we do have fun. But, as you have already seen, the troupe prides itself on its close ties. Did the dynamics of this group.. startle you?" 

Hisoka had not expected that question. It took him an instant to recover and respond jeeringly. "Nothing startling at all. I did incapacitate their comrade in under ten minutes. He was weaker than them all, I could tell from their eyes. The displeasure is understandable, I did not intend to pick the easiest fight. It was really just random."

Chrollo stared unblinkingly. "Random? I don't think so. If you couldn't gather, I am quite fond of the Christian theology. There are twelve legs of the Spiders. The newest one is always the weakest, the one that bears the least support for the rest. Likewise, Judas, the weakest disciple of his twelve brethren, committed the gravest sin." 

Hisoka blinked, unamused by the religious rantings.

He once stood, shivering in an empty church pew to wait out a wailing thunderstorm. The interior was freezing. Hisoka felt for some matches in his mixed fabric trousers, held together by some miracle. He was too young to work, too old to be cared for unconditionally. He pulled forth a ruby tipped stick and a brazen edged box, struck a flame and looked around for some fuel for the pitiful warmth. An idea struck him on the podium of the center stage. There was a wooden cross, nailed tightly to the wall. The brilliance of his plan sent Hisoka skipping happily to the steps, kissing the tip of the match to the crux's edge. Hisoka sat, curled underneath the devouring flames and smoldering wood, eyes glossed over in flickers of blue rust and blazing copper. He wondered briefly if this would be a sin, those bad things only the devil liked. Little Hisoka decided being warm was better than going to heaven.

The Spider leaned forward with pupils opened to the size of moons, setting aside his book entirely and shaking Hisoka from his nostalgia

"Tell me, Hisoka. Where do your loyalties lie?" Chrollo questioned. Hisoka decided, staring at a perpetually dripping pipe with annoyance, that lying would be ineffective. He returned his gaze to Chrollo and tilted his head, smiled as sweetly as a hyena could. 

"Wherever I can find the biggest thrill. Where better to be than with a group that can wipe a fearsome clan from existence in under a day."

"The Scarlet Eyes?" 

Hisoka's face twisted, "Yes, but I'm not so much interested in their eyes. That's rather crude."

Chrollo opened his mouth to respond, but only a chuckle surfaced, deep and unexpected. "You would refer to the massacre as a great feat, yet the acquisition of their eyes as too far?" Distant voices of the troupe members became increasingly closer, louder.

"I'm only interested in immediate benefit. I don't need a souvenir to remind me of the pleasure of a kill. It's all stored right here." Hisoka gestured loosely to his head. He supposed his groin would work in this sentiment as well, but he had a feeling this employer would not be so interested. 

The comment led to another prolonged observation. Hisoka, feeling as though his being had been subjected to enough critique, lowered his voice and spoke quickly enough before the troupe could fill Chrollo's room.

"You left a pair of red eyes to roam the world. I can help you find it." 

Hisoka offered. A last ditch resort, an appeal to what he knew as Chrollo's infatuation with forbidden treasure. Really, he had no intention of tracking down the last remaining Kurta, who was probably a defenseless child, or may have died shortly after Hisoka spotted him at the site, bludgeoned and empty. But with the way Chrollo's face twitched with a sudden longing, Hisoka correctly assumed it would be the flames of scarlet irises that would haunt him enough to ensure Hisoka his position. And, eventually, land him the chance of a true, orgasmic fight. A perfect betrayal. 

Hisoka spun around to face the Troupe, who had trickled in to receive some type of news from the Boss. Chrollo regarded them, pondering deeply. He stood, and stretched his arms out behind Hisoka, giving the appearance of feathered wings sprawling from the fur of his jacket. 

"Hisoka Morrow will be the Thirteenth Member of the Spiders. There will be no objections." 

The finality of the statement sent the Troupe away with darting glances, but nothing more. Hisoka stared openly at Chrollo's book, laid face down in the dark. Suddenly, something like satisfaction welled inside him, cozy as the memory of heat pouring from the scorching crucifix. He had outperformed. 


	2. Claiming Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illumi and Hisoka meet for the first time. Yes, this is a slash. I couldn't figure out a way to incorporate Illumi without them being in a relationship lmao

Hisoka moved quietly through the woods, his steps so light not even the foliage beneath could murmur his presence with dry crunches.

He had been following the man all the way from Yorknew City. Hisoka had stumbled, luck would have it, on a wanted poster pinned to a telephone pole on the busy streets, advertising a grisly man who passed Hisoka just as he was reading over his ransom reward. Five billion jenny if alive, two billion if dead.

Hisoka was not a bounty hunter, or an assassin. But he most certainly would not pass over an opponent valued so highly. He entertained his options, watching the culprit disappear quickly into a sliver of the woods off Avenue five. Decidedly, he reached into his pocket and texted to politely cancel his reservations for dinner. He shrouded himself in Zetsu and slinked through ten miles, Gyo burning his eyes.

The man was quick. His hands fisted his hood as he sprinted through the winds. Hisoka was practically skipping to him with his bouncy strides. The early morning quickly became starless night. The man's pace grew slower, and so did Hisoka's, until he was simply walking to keep pace with the tired criminal.

He set up camp, sparks flying through the air, one, two, three times before an actual fire started. He removed his hood, ran his hands down his worn eyes and patchy stubble. Hisoka crouched in a bush past the clearing, peeking his head through a gap in the brambles. He observed the man pour some tea and rub his aching joints with a tub of ointment. His soup looked gritty and cold.

Eventually, he reached into his pants to withdraw a cellphone. He placed it into his shoulder. Hisoka preyed on his foolishness and prepared to release bungee gum while he was distracted.

"Maria. They've found me," the man said with a smile wet with tears. "I've been followed since Yorknew. I can't outrun them. I bet I can't win against them, either."

Hisoka paused, narrowed his eyes. If this were a bluff, it was quite convincing. The man was staring intently diagonal of Hisoka's position, hands shaking and eyes twitching.

"Yeah. Don't wait up for me. He's got a cold look in his eyes. And the palest, whitest face I've ever seen, like death itself."

Hisoka required no further introduction. He shot a strand of pulsating aura, glittering in victory, through the air.

It withered as a figure came barreling from the man's path of terrified vision. Hisoka recoiled, then ravenously grinned. Suddenly, this was a competition.

The newcomer pulled pins from nowhere, lithe as toothpicks but undoubtedly strong as steel blades. His hair flowed past in all directions like spilled ink. Hisoka himself emerged quickly from his hiding, acting fast. He released Bungee Gum on both and quickly pulled their bodies together in a clean smack, eliciting a groan of pain from his bounty and silence from the contender. He released his aura and sighed.

"Goodness, after such a nice game of tag. Who knew we had another player?" Hisoka regarded the assassin, blank stare marred by a curled lip. Disgust.

"This is my target. I have been hired to assassinate this man."

Hisoka realized they had cornered him, the man's head swiveling in terror between both his assailants. It was unclear who was the lesser of the evils, a demon or a killer clown. He dropped to his knees.

"Please! I'm not a powerful Nen user! I'm a cheap assassin, I use poisons and measly potions. This is hardly fair!"

While the speck griped about injustice, the two above bickered their claims.

"Hm. It seems as though you'll have to get past me to complete your job." Hisoka was pleased. This man seemed a much more competent fighter. He cocked his head.

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have when I first sensed you four kilometers ago. I didn't deem it necessary. Although, if you keep this up, your death may be unavoidable." He smoothly stated. Hisoka heard his quiet confidence, as though he did not even consider his own death a possibility. Hisoka loved the face of those pompous victims the instant before their demises: disbelief, terror, shock as they finally understood their reality. The image of the assassin's ghostly expression screwing into something pitifully defeated spurred Hisoka. He trailed a card slowly up his abdomen and flicked his wrist towards the pale figure.

"I'd like to get this going, wouldn't you?"

The assassin remained unmoving. Within seconds, he charged so fast he blurred. Hisoka leapt in the air and flipped over him, meeting with his back and slicing his bone white neck before he could react.

The assassin knelt defensively, almost crouching. Hisoka sprung away and watched cautiously from a distance. The assassin ran a thumb across the gash and stared at the streaky red in wonder.

Suddenly, pins shot through his skin like spikes, encasing him like a hedgehog. "You are no ordinary man."

"I most certainly am not," Hisoka agreed, beaming. The assassin drew the pins that emerged from his body with one beckon, bundling them in the air and quickly releasing them behind his back, almost perfect trajectory without even looking. Hisoka released Hatsu, realized a bit too late that the needles were not Nen dummies. The blades punctured his flesh and rendered him to a pin cushion. He whistled after doubling over and coughing blood.

"You really are something else." Hisoka knew his injuries were not nearly enough to warrant worry, but Illumi didn't know that. He slumped against a tree, feigning weakness. Illumi, still not convinced Hisoka was a justifiable target, ignored dealing a final blow. He looked to his right, catching the man crawling across the ground in a messy scramble, like a wounded mutt. Illumi grabbed him by the scruff and raised him off the ground.

"No no no no please-" A pin moved swiftly into his spine, successfully cutting his brain stem and immediately killing him. Hisoka groaned, not from pain. Yes, playing dead was a better course of action this time around. He wanted their battle to be as graceful and elegant as that. Hisoka risked the assassin's mercy and stood up with ease. He spun his head and dropped his victim.

"You are still not dead"

Hisoka allowed the thin gum around himself to slide off like cellophane. He waved it and shook the pins off like dust.

"You almost got me there. I only had enough time to develop a flimsy barrier of Nen. Your skills are impressive"

The assassin maintained his owlish stare. He turned away to disturb the corpse, rummaging through his coat and retrieving an array of vials lodged between his fingers. He raised them over his head and rotated them, stirring the various liquids in observation. Then, unflinchingly, he uncapped each of them and poured them down his throat. Hisoka watched the assassin deliberately poison himself with no explanation. The moon faintly glowed off of his papery skin, dancing as he screwed his face a bit, as though he had taken a shot of vodka rather than arsenic.

"I had been avoiding my poison tolerance training for sometime. However, this man had no exceptional talent for brewing. His strongest ware was no better than a cup of coffee."

Suddenly, it all made sense to Hisoka. The silent movements, deadened eyes, swift killing, poison tolerance. The smooth, unstained flesh, like a man drained of warm blood. A walking corpse.

"Ah, I see. You are a Zoldyck."

Something like regality filled Illumi's posture at the mention of his surname. Hisoka sensed a shift in his aura, a chink in his defense. "Illumi." He said. Not Illumi Zoldyck. Just Illumi.

Hisoka sized him up. Heard the name pass through his mind multiple times. Illumi. Illumi. He bowed his head

"Hisoka. You must be hungry."

Illumi's rumbling stomach answered before him, sounding similar to a landslide. Whatever rejection he was conjuring died upon his lips.

-

They hailed a cab on a highway near the woods, Illumi lugging the corpse over his back to the dismay of the driver. Hisoka nearly told him to leave the body outside the restaraunt, but suddenly remembered he had cancelled reservations. He regarded Illumi's bloodsoaked clothes.

"Do you mind walking in like this? I can provide you something nicer."

Illumi looked down at himself, jostled the body around his neck to prevent it from slipping. "Will this cause a commotion?"

Hisoka shook his head, suppressing a fit of laughter, "Just follow me."

As Hisoka had predicted and hoped, the staff was more than willing to provide a last minute table with haste, in no small thanks to the state of his guest. Dinner and drinks were served. Illumi ate, Hisoka drank. A waiter came by to politely request the body be held in a room at the back, as to not disturb the other guests. Illumi reluctantly said yes.

"You know, I can't shake one thing from my mind," Hisoka started, feigning confusion. Illumi's mouth stopped, full of tortellini.

"An assassin tailing his victim so discreetly that even I couldn't sense him, should surely have been able to finish that man off much earlier in his hunt."

Illumi responded only after he had thoroughly chewed and swallowed, patted his mouth with a napkin. Hisoka thought it was unbearably cute.

"Of course I could have. He was a weak target, but when you are an assassin, the fastest route is not always the safest. If I had taken him in daylight, he would no doubt have alerted his comrades and created a mess." The man, though of low caliber, was actually a particularly well liked member of a powerful league of Nen users. Hisoka would learn this much later, upon researching him on one of the many days that his first encounter with Illumi grazed his thoughts.

"Well, I'm sure you must hate messes," Hisoka pointed out, subsequently cackling. Illumi did not find the same humor. He, perhaps subconsciously, rubbed at a particularly stubborn stain in his shirt.

"I sensed your aura as well, thought it was extremely faint. Your Zetsu is good. Your gum-like Nen is strange."

Hisoka's laughter flattened out eventually, "Bungee Gum. I'm sure you can figure its abilities by what you saw and by name."

"The children's candy? My brother is quite fond of it. He collects rare items such as those, though I imagine the tin is empty."

Illumi resumed eating, remarkably dainty with his manners. Hisoka leaned against his hand, his perpetual smile deepening into something less fickle. "And here I was thinking the fondest memory of my childhood was gone forever." He watched Illumi eat, questions weighing on his tongue that he desired to ask but let slide somewhere far away. His plate was cleared of all morsels and crumbs in minutes.

"I must ask you something." Illumi stated, setting down his silverware and directing his attention solely on Hisoka.

"Anything you want." Hisoka's grin was downright Cheshire. Illumi stared for a bit. Hisoka realized his pupils were the majority of his eyes, like twisting black holes.

"Before, you had the upper hand. You would not have succeeded, but you could have tried to kill me. Instead, your card merely grazed my neck. Why?" Illumi traced his hands behind himself, pushing aside his silky hair. Hisoka noticed his hands were perfectly manicured, unusually so. He was enigmatically feminine, overtly masculine in marbled biceps and strong chest. Hisoka trailed his gaze back to Illumi's face.

"I didn't kill you because I wanted to fight you. Really fight you. I haven't met someone quite like you before."

"Oh." Illumi said, a bit faintly. Hisoka leaned forward, rasping his confident voice.

"I really, really wanted to make you scream. You seemed so sure you would kill me, just from the way you looked at me. Like I was nothing. Am I still nothing to you, Illumi?" Hisoka waited, finished off his wine, basking in Illumi's silence. The music of the bandstand swelled into crescendo and elicited polite applause around them. Illumi stood.

"I assume you are paying. I appreciated this." He blinked, in lieu of a handshake or bow of gratitude, and walked to the backrooms. Hisoka sensed fatigue catch him the moment after the seat across from him was deserted. He laid out money to pay and tip outrageously in a halfway apology. He waited outside of the restaurant amidst the wafting cigarette smoke and blaring lamp lights, wondering if his contended buzz was simply the alcohol's doing. Illumi emerged through the revolving doors, carrying his corpse once more.

"Will I see you again?" Hisoka inquired. Illumi shrugged.

"I reside mainly in the mountains. Though I am oftentimes employed in Yorknew. If you interfere in my missions again, I really will kill you."

Hisoka shivered, the corners of his mouth stretching as he bit his thumb and delivered a deeply pleasured sigh. "Oh, Illumi. I look forward to that."

Illumi regarded him for the last time that night. It seemed like he had something more to say, though he left with the unspoken words abruptly. hurried down the sidewalk while striding past horrified faces. Hisoka watched him go, waited for some time before starting in the same direction, back to his room. 

He awoke from a dreamless slumber the next morning, sipping coffee and facing his wall to wall window in boredom, thinking back on that crescent moon threaded like a smirk above their capricious night. Illumi was incredibly dangerous, a face that reflected the gruesome rumors of the Zoldyck family perfectly. He was so demented that his aura singed. 

Hisoka's chest tightened at the thought of anyone else taking his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lord this took so long to write


	3. Ribbons in the Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: abuse, violence, gore, assault.

The funeral was dull and so was everyone in attendance. Hisoka found the corpse much more interesting than anything surrounding it. It still had the gashes, three pretty ribbon circling the neck. When Hisoka had returned to her, lying on the floor and folded onto herself, those scars were glowing crimson and spurting blood like leaky pipes, her eyes already dead. Now, the cuts were duller, oxidized brown. And they were still beautiful. He closed the coffin and watched the drizzle of rain bounce off of it like a shield of light

Hisoka felt a hand hover over his shoulder, hesitant before being brought down. 

"She really liked you, you know." 

The quiet thrummed with the chilling croons of crows and murmured prayers. Hisoka looked her right in the face. 

"No she didn't. She was a bitch." And he smiled. The woman, a black net over her eyes and ruby lips, churned with anger. Hisoka had seen that look many times before, when the silly little corpse had been outside the coffin. Sometimes spurred by whiskey, sometimes not. Always that same hatred etched in her face like knife wounds. 

  
  


_I hate you_ She said. Hisoka was eleven playing with rocks on the back porch and throwing them at a stray cat, hissing violently. He hadn't seen her come in. He tossed a glance behind him and saw her, blonde hair thin and spindly like spider legs. Her eyes were shadowed and lips drawn to tiny slits. Hisoka simply stared back. He didn't usually come home, but the circus had gone bankrupt and now he really had nowhere to go. Part of him thought that she would have moved out of the city long ago, vanished like a nightmare in the early hours. But part of him secretly hoped to see her, to see how thoroughly she had ruined herself. 

A pad of silence between them, and then Hisoka grinned widely, far as his face allowed. 

"You look like shit. Brothel work keeping you busy?" 

Her face twisted like a wringing towel, and suddenly the depths of her ugliness were visible, wrinkles and patches of dry skin and bits of mascara hanging off her lashes. Hisoka wiped the dirt on his cheek with the back of his hand, still smiling, and he didn't even realize his legs were moving and didn't realize the blows he was delivering carried the intent to kill.

  
  


It all felt so natural, how it should be. Beneath him. 

  
  


The blur of the fight in Hisoka's mind held no definite certainty,who struck first and who cried in pain first and who was heaving those heavy breaths. He didn't know what had pushed him to this decision, if this was why he came home after six years of not knowing if she was even alive. All Hisoka knew was the heat and the scuffle of limbs writhing and grappling and the stench of blood coming from everywhere and the excitement pounding in his chest as he sunk his nails behind her neck and scratched rightward as though he were closing a book.

Her weight all fell at once and pinned Hisoka to the floor, her head buried in the crook of his neck and torso splayed awkwardly away. Her warm breath gradually cooled against his skin as he twirled her hair through his fingers and hummed. The guilt he expected from it never came. The memories of her howling sobs, sickle shaped smiles with hands riding up his shirt in the mournful black of night. It didn't settle, misting his eyes like fog. All he could think of now was the blooming sensation in his chest when the certainty of her death emerged, brought to her face like a flash of blinding light, an epiphany.

  
  


Hisoka got up and told the neighbors a terrible accident had occurred. 

  
  


Hisoka shook the woman's fat fingers off his shoulder and peered into the box one more time. The satisfaction was waning fast, and a reproachfulness slipped over his thoughts. Now, she was really useless. Just a bundle of flesh that couldn't hurt him ever again, a punching bag. He fiddled with the ends of his hair and ignored the shouts booming behind him, telling him to show some respect and how she should never have had him. 

He abandoned the scene and let the rain wash away the drudgery, wanting anything to lift the gutting boredom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haven't posted on this in a while! I'm making a chaptered hisoillu fic on the side and doing some other stuff 
> 
> this chapter was heavy

**Author's Note:**

> LMK what you think. Fingers crossed this will be a cohesive fic by the end of all the chapters.


End file.
